


plant your hope with good seeds

by Princex_N



Series: making strange with one another [8]
Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: (jay has the practice and brian has the delusions they are Separate), Delusions, Everybody Lives, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Recovery, Routines And Rituals, Tarot, Witchcraft, hearth witch, spirituality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:19:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24041212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: Jay buys a tarot deck, and doesn't stop there.
Relationships: Alex Kralie & Jay Merrick & Brian Thomas & Timothy "Tim" Wright, Jay Merrick & Brian Thomas
Series: making strange with one another [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711201
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	plant your hope with good seeds

**Author's Note:**

> title from [mumford and sons' 'thistle & weeds'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81DAIb6l9jI)
> 
> IDK, i kept getting youtube recs for witch tiktok comps and also i reread [Teshuvah by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3344288), and then this wouldn't leave my head!! so here it is

He spots the deck in a thrift shop while he's looking for plates to replace the ones Tim broke during a coughing fit, and it sticks in his mind like glue. He tries to ignore it as he goes about his shopping, but after the third time his circuit ends with wandering hands over worn cardboard boxing, Jay caves and buys it. It's not that much money out of his budget, he's just finished a programming job the day before, and isn't it punk to defy the expectation that poor people can't have little pleasures or nice things anyway? 

That doesn't stop him from hiding it in his pockets before he gets home, throws out the receipt before putting the plates away in the cabinet and the plastic bag under the sink, and pretends not to feel the weight of it against his thigh as he goes through the rest of his night. 

(If Tim notices, he doesn't say a word. He's always been more considerate than Jay ever was.) 

It's not like he knows anything about it, not like he knows what he's doing, not like he has any idea what he wants out of it, but if Jay is good at anything it's jumping into the deep end feet first and learning how to swim while just trying not to sink. 

The next day it's Brian next to him when he opens the box for the first time, plastered against Jay's back to ground one another in the empty stillness of the apartment while they wait for the others to get home. He's steady warmth and curious eyes, and the least likely to make fun, even if it's only because the words are rarely worth the effort (the time spent learning Brian's language is passing slowly, but surely. They'll reach a functioning middle ground soon), but it's more than that, Jay knows. 

Brian understands in a way, the same but different. Sudden intuition and cryptic warnings, routines and rituals he understands but no one else does, only leaving the apartment in downpour storms because the rain is holy protection, he knows. Jay doesn't flush with embarrassment when Brian watches as he flips through the cards, marveling at their illustrations and wondering at their meanings. Lets the quiet fill the negligible space between them, and Jay doesn't feel the urge to explain himself and doesn't bother to try. 

Fumbling blind is what Jay is good at, and he does research in between editing and programming commissions under the guise of giving his wrists a break. Takes cramped notes in a 75 cent notebook, mumbles his way through meanings and interpretations and spreads, does his first reading under the careful weight of Brian's animal eyes, and isn't sure if he's done it right but can't deny the rush of satisfaction, of _rightness_ , that spreads down into his fingertips as he flips over the cards. 

(Brian doesn't ask questions and doesn't cast doubt, takes every warning and advisement with serious consideration, and it feels like a weight of responsibility, but the cards feel like static videos and flashes of code, and Jay understands Brian for once too.) 

It starts with the cards, but refuses to stop there, and Jay lets it all unravel under his hands because if anyone could defend the existence of the preternatural it would be them. After everything it put them through, doesn't he deserve something good? 

He takes to it quickly, deftly avoiding all mentions and uses of entities or deities because he's had enough of those to last a lifetime and doesn't want any more. Instead he focuses his energy on himself, builds a routine out of grounding and centering and research. Tentatively opened windows and the dull song of cheap wind chimes, candles bought at dollar stores and herbs off the discount rack of grocery stores. Tim eyes the growing collections with an air of apprehension, but never speaks a word against them, and Jay respects the silent request for space and doesn't push it. 

It's a schedule he hadn't noticed he'd needed, a thing to throw himself into with all the fervor that's been lying stagnant since Tim cut the ties around his wrists and pulled him off the floor with shaky hands covered in dust and dried blood. Something to focus on, something to tie him to the world and the everyday without the need to run for his life and shuffle in and out of cheap hotels. It reminds him to eat and cuts the panicked haze of dissociation short and the fear never fades and Jay never feels normal but he feels _better_ for the first time in a while, and that's all he needs for now. 

He reads about plants, and wants, but can't find it in himself to justify the cost (five dollars for five candles is quite the difference from the fifty dollar price tag on the same number of plants, and Jay can make little exceptions here and there, but work is hard to keep and harder to come by, and bills will always be the first priority). He does the research anyway, and doesn't realize Brian is paying any mind to Jay's thoughts spoken aloud until he comes back from a rare excursion outside with sleeves full of stems that take root propagating in glasses of water - stolen from death off the shelves of a Home Depot and given new life on their kitchen counters. 

(Brian understands in his own way and does his best to help where he can. Fills his sweatshirt pockets with jars and wanders out on crutches and unsteady legs for plants identified as easy as breathing and creek water he can spend hours relishing in. The water is safety salvation solace, and that alone meant the woods were more safety to Brian than they ever were for anyone else. His are quiet certainties and passing thoughts as contrast to Jay's studied dedication, but the comprehension doesn't fade along with the delusions. He watches with rapture as Jay casts wards around the entrances and plants himself at Jay's back to stand guard every time Jay closes his eyes to meditate. He will never build his own practice out of scattered beliefs and nonsense routines, and Jay will never divine warnings to cover all the mirrors with sheets to protect from outside eyes, and they stand solid with one another and are content in their respective roles.) 

Jay builds spells in cheap envelops and empty pill bottles, lights tea candles stuffed with herbs to chase away nightmares, and steals salt packets from fast food restaurants. Carves sigils into the bread Brian's raspy voice talks him through baking and binds thorns alongside rosemary to hang over their door, and watches as Alex's deferential hands find the sigils tucked among the branches every night he comes home. 

Dream journals and tarot spreads give warnings he passes along, and if they only rarely come to fruition Jay never minds, and continues on. Tim never seems to listen with anything more than the same half-willing indulgence he gives to Brian, but it's him who brings home and rigs up the corked bottle for the cheap pendulum Jay had lamented his shaky hands had rendered useless. Jay cleanses the apartment and casts protection spells daily and settles under Brian's tacit approval when he uses water and steam instead of fire and smoke. 

Jessica takes home the little protections he can give her with an air of amusement, but he knows she doesn't throw any of them away. "You seem more grounded," she tells him one day, sitting alongside Brian and watching as Jay cooks them all dinner with precise movements and tentative chants. "Not really, like, 'better'? But, more _there_." 

Jay thinks that sounds right, sounds fair. Not normal, not better, but functioning in a way that makes sense to him even if it doesn't to anyone else. In this house, with these people, there's almost no other way to be. Not quite happiness, but getting there, and Jay will do everything in his power to keep them all safe for as long as he can. Together and strange and reborn. 

**Author's Note:**

> not a witch and don't have a practice, but i do have a large grimoire bc this is a topic my brain hits that hyperfocus Hard with for some reason; also hopefully i navigated the compare/contrast between jay's practice and brian's schizotypal pd with enough clarity? if i made a mistake or u have questions, just let me know!!


End file.
